The All American Australian
by Lil Cosmo
Summary: Numbuh 4 and the others go to a party at moonbase. Unfortunatly, Numbuh 4's drink gets spiked. The next day, he wakes up with the world's worst headache and phone calls from girls claiming he'd asked them out at the party! Chaos ensues. How will Wally
1. Invite

**AN: Alright, here's a little thing I thought up a few days ago, and I decided, what the heck, why not post it? Um. it contains insanity, bad preteen behavior, oocness, comedy, drama, romance, teen angst (or preteen angst . . . whatever), drugs, alcohol, and, um, perverted thinking. Lots of other stuff, too I just can't think of right now. Oh, it's in Numbuh 4's POV. Alot of you'll probably say he'd never do/say/think any of this stuff, but, um, he's, like, twelve so . . . I dunno. If ya don't like it, there's a review button on the bottom of the page. Flaming is required, and probably looked forward to by you pyromaniacs out there (like Father). As for the rest of you, take caution when playing with fire. Oh, and I don't own KND, just so ya know.**

Numbuh 2 is such a fag. I can't BELIEVE he almost forgot to give us our invitations to the annual KND summer party at moonbase!

"Oops," He had said.

"What?" I asked, looking away from the T.V. screen for a second and putting my PS2 game GRAND THEFT AUTO VICE CITY on pause (I love that game! Killing people and stealing cars is what I do best . . . cyberly, that is).

Five crumpled, stained yellow envelopes were in his grip. "Um, here's your mail from a few weeks ago."

I held the paper away from me slightly, kinda disgusted. That is, until I noticed the return address: KND Moonbase. "What did I do?" I panicked, hoping they hadn't found out about last week's cafeteria fiasco. How was I supposed to know turkey gravy was flammable? But the blue flames were pretty skate. Well, until Numbuh 1 flipped out, probably thinking Father was there, and slipped on an old dinner roll. He knocked straight into me and I was sent straight to gravy hell.

Burns are NOT skate. Neither is KND house arrest. Numbuh 1 was so POed, he hasn't let me go on any missions this week. What the Hell? Can you believe that?

I ripped the letter open, then breathed a sigh of relief. It was just an invitation. "When did you get these?" I asked, noticing the party was tonight.

"Um, three weeks ago," Numbuh 2 laughed nervously.

I laughed a little. "Numbuh 3's gonna flip when she realizes she doesn't have enough time to go get a new dress."

He shrugged. "No more than Numbuh 1 will."

Actually, I was pretty mad myself, but it wasn't like I needed to get any new clothes or anything. What would I buy? A new pair of thrift store jeans, worn only once by an old man with a weak bladder? I'm frickin' broke. Too young for a job, too old for allowance, at least according to my dad. Maybe I could lie about my age, though, and get a job at a fast food restarant or something. Just for the summer. This chick I know from Sector Q, Numbuh 484, has, like, two jobs and she's my age. She's even shorter than me ans she passes as a sixteen year old. Don't ask me how she does it. But getting a job isn't my idea of summer fun. I'd rather inject HIV infected needles in my eyeballs and run around naked through the gay community shouting 'Do me! Do me!' then work. I'll only be a kid for so long.

Plus, working around a stove isn't my area of expertise. I'd probably burn the mountain dew.

I turned back to my game, my attention span drifting. 'Alright!' I grinned wickedly as I noticed a group of girls, looking positively hookerish, hanging around the street corner. I switched my weapon to chain saw, ready for the mass decapitation (great word!).

The screen turned black before any blood hit the street.

"Hey!" I jumped to my feet, the cord dangling from Numbuh 5's hand.

She smirked. "Don't you have a floor to clean?"

Oh, I forgot to mention. As part of my 'punishment' for the whole fire thing, I had to do everyone else's chores for the rest of the week. Luckily today was the last day.

"No time," I replied. "The moonbase party thing is tonight." Score! Mopping is Numbuh 5's job and if I play my cards right, she'll be on her hands and knees by tomorrow morning.

"Then you better get to work." She answered.

That's when it hit me. Would Numbuh 1 be so tyranic not to let me go to the party? That would be pure evil of him, and I really can't see him doing that. But I had made him pretty mad, going against plans and practically burning down the school for the second time this year (the first time wasn't intentional. Um, it involved smoking in the cafeteria. Long story and I'm sure if you stick around long enough you'll hear about it. Probably from Numbuh 5, she LOVES reminding me of my pure stupidity). But would he really keep me from going to the biggest event from my life until senior prom? No I'm thinking too small. The biggest event until I get married (hopefully to a certain Asian girl with the prettiest lavender eyes you've ever seen . . . um, I mean, marriage is for babies). He couldn't. The others have all gone, but this would be my first (and last) time going. The earlier ones, until we were ten, we weren't invited to, for they believed we were too young. Then when we were ten, I was sick. Last year my dad decided I had to go to a private school clear in New York City, a million years away from here. A whole year without KND. I call that the dark ages and I don't speak about it much. Dad finally decided I could come back to school here if, and only if, I could keep my grades up. Check this out. I'm a straight A student. No joke. It's on my report card.

4 point frickin' 0. Me, Wallabee Beatles. Okay, back to the point. Numbuh 1 just CAN'T keep me from that party. He can't! I'll beg if I have to. I'll freaking watch the Rainbow Monkey Movie every night for the rest of my life if it means I can go to that one party, and I'm not just saying that.

Alright, maybe I should make a pledge or something. I, Wallabee Beatles, am allowed to attend the party then I swear to tell Kuki Sanban how I feel about her.

Come to think of it, maybe it would be better if I didn't go.


	2. Stomach contents

**An: Update! Um, part of this is supposed to have alot of typos.**

"Hiiiiii Numbuh 4," some ten year old KND agent smiled at me.

"Hi," I replied.

She flipped her brown hair from her face. "So, can I get you something to drink?"

"No," I answered.

"Its my jooooob."

God, her voice was annoying. All drawed out and whiny. "No thaaaaaaaaaaaaaanks," I imitated.

"Oh, one drink won't hurt. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese?"

"Fine, whatever. Just, can you go away? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese?" I asked.

"Okay! I'll get you a soda. I know it's your favorite."

"How do you . . . " but she was already gone, shaking her hips like she's all that. Then she tripped over her heels. I nearly died laughing.

I couldn't believe it. I was at the party! The lighting was dim so it was pretty hard to see anything, and the music was blasting some crappy techno music, but it was still awesome! Only a couple people were

dancing . . .

Is that Kuki dancing with some guy?

Okay, I better cool down . . . Oh no, he did NOT just put his arm around her!

What's she laughing so hard about?

That's it, I'm going over ther-

"Here's your sooooooooooooooda!" The girl came back, cradling a glass filled with the amber liquid. "I'm Numbuh 769, by the way. I just graduated and . . ."

"That's nice," I took the glass away, glaring at Kuki and that guy, who was now slow dancing with her. Did they have to stand that close together?

Numbuh seven hundred whatever followed my gaze. "Is that Kuki Sanban?" Her voice sounded bitter.

I nodded, sipping the pop. Something was wrong. Maybe it was just flat.

"I thought she was supposed to be the cute one!"

"She is!" I answered, before realizing what I was doing. "I mean, that's what they say. everyone, anyway. I haven't ever, er, noticed or um looked at her. I mean, she's definitly, er. . ."

She interupted. "How's the soda?"

"Flat," I answered.

"Well, um, yeah. I, uh, didn't want the carbonation to, er, eat your stomach lining out. You know what they say about carbonation."

"Whatever," I finished the glass. After all, no need to waste soda. Even if it tasted horrible.

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Kuki and dat loosher haff been danshing for hours now. It's time I kick that guysh ash!

"Hey you!" I aproached the guy angrily, a hard thing to do shince . . . since, I mean . . . my legs were rubber and my shkin wash . . . skin was . . . crawling off my bones. I put my finger in the guy's face. "Leave her alone."

"dude, what's your deal?" The guy stared at me incredilously.

"Wally!" Kuki shed . . . said . . . angrily.

"Do you haff a problem?" I asked.

"You came over here." He pointed out.

"Shut up! If you shtay quiet I might go eazy on je-you."

"What . . ."

He didn't finish. I teached that guy a leshion. He'll shtay away from my woman for a while now.

Blood dripped all over the place from his noshe. . . nose. I bet I broke it!

I laughed. The shound . . . sound . . . echoed in my body, like something that lived and breathed.

"Oh my god! My nose! MY NOSE!" He shrieked, drawing everyone'sh attention in our direction.

"Are you alright Danny?" Kuki bent over him, as he was on the ground. She looked up to glare at me. "You jerk! What do you think you're doing? You could've seriously hurt him!"

"I am seriously hurt!" He whined.

"Shut up, Kuki's talking," I told him, grinning at my love.

She gave me a look that could freeze lava. "Sometimes you're a real dick, did you know that?"

"Did you just say . . .?" I laughed, having never heard Numbuh 3 say anything like that.

"You're really something, you know that?" By now someone had taken whatshisname to the hospital or something. The mushic was dancing and I felt like joining in. "Wanna dansh?" I asked.

"No, I do not want to dance." Kuki replied.

I grabbed her arm and tried dragging her to the dance floor. "Letsh go!"

"You let go of me right now, Wallabee Beatles!" She slapped my arm away.

I shuddenly remembered the promise I'd made to myself. "Kuki, there's something I have to tell you."

She stepped back. "What?"

"There's something I have to tell you."

"You just said that," She shed, annoyed.

"I did? Well, there's something I have to tell you. I. . . I . . ."

"Yes?"

"I lo- I have to puke!" sickness washed over me and chunks of regurgitated hot dogs painted the dance floor and the front of Kuki's brand new white dress.

**AN: Ew! Sick enough for you? Now you must ask yourself the question of the century: If a guy loved you, but he puked on you, would you still have feelings for him? ponder this as you wait for the next chapter. Chao!**


	3. Hangovers and Phone calls

Holy hell, my head hurts! I had had the weirdest dream. I almost told Kuki . . . something, I don't remember what . . . and then I puked all over her. What a stupid dream.

Wait a minute . . . Oh crud!

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod. I can't believe myself. It couldn't get any worse.

Funny thing, though. After that I don't remember anything else. Hmmm, wonder what happened. Oh well, nothing too bad, or I'd remember. Wouldn't I?

My phone started ringing, triggering another spasm of intense pain. "Hello?" I answered.

"Hi Numbuh 4," Some chick answered. Someone I'd never met before, or at least don't remember any more. "How are you feeling today?"

"Okay. Listen, uh, who are . . ."

"Well, I just called to tell you I can't make it Saturday. Daddy says I need to clean my room. I told him Barbara can do it, but he says I have to be responsible. Puhlease! Responsibility is for poor people!"

"Who the crud is Barbara?"

"My maid, silly. Of course, you wouldn't know her. She's Mexican, or German, or Chinese, or something like that. Sorry I can't make it, though. Love you!" She hung up.

What the crud was that about?

The phone rang again.

"What?" I asked.

"What're you doing?" Some girl asked, trying too hard to be sexy (she sounded constipated or something).

"Who are you?"

"I-I- don't you remember?"

"Uh, no."

"We have a date. Saturday at Casa Linda. You asked me last night at the party." She giggled. "You said I had beautiful eyes."

"Why would I say something like that? I've never even met you!"

"Yes you did! At the party! I'm Numbuh 87!" She caught her breath. "Well, you'll remember when you see me at Casa Linda. Later, sweetie."

I hung up. What was going . . .

The phone caught my attention. "Hello?"

"Morning, sleepy head. I've been trying to call all morning."

"Uh . . ."

"How are you? Hope you feel alright. I mean, it's almost noon. So I've been thinking. How about we see IQ Squared? I heard Bloody Night isn't a very good movie. It said so in the paper. Two out of five stars. And IQ Squared is an Indie film. It's more fitting for intellectuals of our status."

"Intellectuals?"

"Exactly. Oh, you'll love it. I've met the guy who wrote the script. He's in college with my brother. The man is a genius! Literally. We can meet him after the show. Well, I have to finish my summer reading. I'm just in the middle of The History of History 2nd edition and it is fascinating."

Phone calls continued all morning and didn't end until 3:00. I had so many dates this week I couldn't see straight. And I hadn't met any of them.

That's not true. I had met one of them. That one chick, Numbuh 769. She was the last one I had, Sunday at 11 at night.

It was all good, though. I could just blow these people off, couldn't I?

No, that wasn't a good idea. Some of them may be important KND agents. Blowing them off could get me decommissioned early. I guess, as much as I hate it, I'm going to have to date all these girls. Starting today, at six.

As long as they don't try to kiss me, I'm good.

**AN: Up next, witness Wally's first date! Will she try to kiss him? Will he fall in love and forget about Kuki (fat chance!). Stay tuned!**


	4. she LICKED my teeth!

I think I'm gonna puke. Again.

She's just so . . . so . . . I dunno, what's another word for nauseating?

I dunno why I decided to actually meet her at that cruddy Skateland place. I skate about as good as I swim, and I can't go in the deep end of the pool without needing mouth to mouth (no comment).

So I walked in anyways, pulled by some weird 'skate force' or something and there was this Amazon chick in a red mini skirt leaning on the counter.

"Oh my God!" She shrieked. "you made it!"

Her voice made my toes curl, it was so shrill. Like ten thousand fingernails on the chalkboard.

"Do I know you?" I asked coolly, though of course by now I realized this was my date. What had I been thinking? Spiked drink or not, I probably came up to this girl's stomach. She could literally crush me if I did something to piss her off.

"Oh you silly willy, it's me Numbuh 9809. But you can call me Kitty. All my boyfriends do." She battered her eyes (note the fake lashes).

"Boyfriends? Plural, you mean?"

"Of course! A woman of my stature cannot simply tie herself down to one man. Oh, you're not jealous, are you my widdle man?"

"No, of course not. But, er, maybe you'd rather skate with one of them."

"NEVER! I cannot skate with a _red head_ on Blonde day. Besides, I broke up with Jeff, and he's the only other blonde I've ever dated."

"Well, that makes sense." I replied sarcastically.

"I know. I think of everything, don't I." She waited a moment. "Well, don't I?"

"I'm hungry," I muttered, turning away from her to head to the food counter.

"Not so fast!" She hissed, grabbing the hood on my shirt. "We're skating NOW and that's FINAL!" She took a deep breath. "Now, what size skate do you wear?"

Needless to say, I fell about infinity and one times, and I think I seriously broke my butt bone. Gah! I probably won't be able to sit down for a month. That girl was . . . petrifying. And that's not even the worst part.

"I'm glad we could skate together," She said, a few minutes after closing time.

"Whatever."

"We should do it again some time." She stared at me expectantly.

"What do you want?" I said, I guess in a whiney voice, but I was sooo tired of her crud.

She leaned in and . . . I'm too ashamed to repeat this almost . . . she KISSED me! Tongue kissed me! Ugh! I had her SPIT in my mouth. That's gotta be unhealthy. I mean, it's SPIT! And I swear, she had a mustache too, which just made it worse. Ew. I can still feel the fuzz on my face and her tongue on my teeth. Excuse me while I vomit.

**AN: Hmm, short and pretty dumb chapter (I've written better) but I decided I better give you something since I haven't' updated in forever and a half.**


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